The Nimrod Caper
by Papa Bear Awards
Summary: As the end of the war draws near, Hogan responds to a directive from London with a typically outrageous scheme. But somehow he ends up with more than what he bargained for...
1. Chapter 1

A note from the authors - we wrote this story to honor and celebrate the 50th Anniversary of Hogan's Heroes. This story was written as a round robin which means that we took turns writing sections of the story, but there was no planning or collaboration behind the scenes as the challenge was to build off of whatever the person who went before you did (hence why things do get a little crazy). We had a blast writing this and hope that you enjoy reading the result.

* * *

 **The Nimrod Caper**

By: Book 'em Again, FloatingPizza, Me & Sgt. Moffitt

 **Chapter One**

 _March 8th, 1945_

As Hogan sipped a cup of coffee, he surveyed his men lounging around the barracks. With no current missions to prepare for, they were taking advantage of the lull in action to read letters from home and play various games of chance. It was a familiar scene, one he could have described in detail blindfolded. From the way Newkirk held his cigarette to Carter's goofy grin to LeBeau's mutterings as he stirred a much too watered down soup, it was a scene that could have happened yesterday, last week or even last year.

Hogan knew these men. He knew their quirks, their likes, their dislikes. He knew what buttons to push to calm them down or rile them up. After years together, there was very little they could do to surprise one another anymore. So it was no small shock to the American officer when he noticed Kinch clattering up the ladder loud enough to be mistaken for a herd of elephants before pushing a few POWs out of the way like a linebacker trying to get through to the quarterback, as he hurried over to a spot where they had hidden a small radio. "Kinch, what ...?"

Kinch didn't look up as he grabbed the device and started fiddling with the dials. "London has a message for all of us."

"Over the BBC?"

"Yes, sir."

The barracks grew silent in anticipation. Hogan wasn't the only one surprised by the out-of-character behavior of the American POW. Something was up. Something big. Something that would almost certainly turn this day from a dull, monotonous one to one full of excitement and danger.

Kinch found the station in time for them to listen to the final few lines of "We'll Meet Again." Vera Lynn's vocals brought a smile to most of the men in the room. There was something comforting in the sound of a woman's voice.

When the music ended, a broadcaster said, "I have important news from the front lines. We can announce that yesterday Allied forces crossed the Rhine into Germany. I repeat, Allied forces are now in Germany."

If there was more to the message, Hogan didn't hear it as the entire barracks shook with cheers. This was a moment that they had all been waiting on for a long time. He remembered after Normandy his men had been convinced that they would be home by Christmas, only to have those dreams dashed as fighting at the border had stretched on for months. But now the Allies had finally broken through. They had hope again.

Hogan whistled and the cheers quieted down to a dull roar. Raising his voice, he said, "The war isn't over yet, gentlemen. It could take weeks or months for the army to reach us." Then looking at Kinch, he asked, "Is there more?"

"Yes, sir. We've been ordered to halt all rescue operations. The route to the coast is no longer safe. Our orders are to focus on intelligence gathering: troop movements, names of commanders in the area. They had a pretty long list."

The list Kinch handed over was indeed rather exhaustive. As Hogan read the orders, he quipped, "Basically if anything happens between the coast and Berlin, they want us to find out about it."

Newkirk, however, didn't find it funny. "Great! Who does London think we are? The closer the Allies come to us, the more German troops will be out there. How are we supposed to learn anything without getting shot?"

LeBeau agreed. "We didn't survive this long to die now."

Even Carter looked uneasy at the prospect. "Do you think we can really learn anything that will help?"

Hogan let anger creep into his voice. "You want to survive this war? Well, so do those poor guys fighting their way across Germany to us. They're risking their lives to save ours, the least we can do is return the favor."

When Hogan stopped, his men looked away as the objections ceased. They really were good men. They just needed a kick in the rear once in a while.

"Colonel," Baker called out from his place by the window, "You're going to want to see this."

Hogan hurried over. A quick glance outside showed an unfamiliar car come to a stop in front of Klink's office. He grinned; it looked like they were going to get started on their mission even sooner than anyone expected.

* * *

As the heroes rushed to listen in on the coffeepot, Major Wolfgang Hochstetter stomped into the Kommandant's office. "Klink," he stated as if it was a law of nature, "You will lend me some of your guards. I have word that a very dangerous man is in the area."

"Major Hochstetter, may I remind you that my camp is under the direction of General Burkhalter," Klink stated as he rose at his desk.

"I do not care, Klink," Hochsetter said as he removed his gloves. He picked up the phone and asked to be placed in touch with Berlin as Klink gave him a defeated look. " _Ja_ , this is Major Hochstetter. _Ja_ , I am here." He spoke a little more as Hogan entered Klink's office.

"Not now, Hogan," Klink said in a hushed voice as Hochstetter hung up the phone. "Major Hochstetter is looking for a very dangerous man."

"Al Capone's available if you can break him out of Alcatraz," Hogan offered. When Hochstetter glowered at him, Hogan nonchalantly added, "He'd make a good Gestapo agent."

"Schultz, escort Colonel Hogan out! This is a very delicate matter, and I cannot have the most dangerous man in Germany here," Hochstetter ordered.

Schultz had been standing inside Klink's door. He politely took Hogan's arm and explained, "The Major is probably on the lookout for Papa Bear again."

"For your information I have my eye on Papa Bear all the time. It is Nimrod I am searching for."

Hogan brushed Schultz's hand off. "Wow, so is this Nimrod more dangerous than Papa Bear? This is fun to have debates like this, isn't it, Schultz," Hogan asked, turning to the Sergeant of the Guard with feigned excitement. He realized later that he'd probably sounded a little too much like Carter in that aspect. "So, what makes this Nimrod more dangerous than Papa Bear?"

"Klink, what is this man doing here?" Hochstetter demanded to know.

Hogan folded his arms. "You know… it reminds me of when I was a boy. Who's the better centerfielder? Cobb or Speaker?"

"Cobb was Detroit and Speaker was Cleveland, right?" Schultz inquired. He'd heard so much about baseball from the men, he thought he recalled those facts.

"See, Schultz knows. Now, part of it is that Speaker played shallow because he couldn't go in as fast on fly balls, while Cobb played deep, so Speaker got lots of double plays…"

 _"WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE?!"_

Hogan shrugged. "Just a little hot stove baseball. So, let's analyze your guys: what's special about Nimrod? Who is he? How is he more dangerous?"

Sufficiently angered to reply without thinking, Hochstetter exploded while throwing down his gloves. "Nimrod is a very important British agent who supplies top secret information, one who because of the Allies' invasion has come even more dangerous than Papa Bear—and I continue to believe you and he are the same man!"

"Or she. Could be a woman," Hogan interjected to throw the Major off.

"Wouldn't that be Mama Bear then?" Schultz inquired.

"What do I care? I do not even care who Cobb or Speaker are!"

Still ignoring the Major's fury—which fueled his fire—Hogan said, "Well, of course, DiMaggio's probably got both topped now. Kinch has even mentioned a guy named Charleston…"

Finally with a chance to get a word in edgewise after lots of silent, timid gestures, Klink said, "Hogan, out!"

Hogan began to leave, but as he stood in the doorway he turned back. "Got any more tidbits for our hot stove debate about Nimrod versus Papa Bear—or Mama Bear?"

The Major was sufficiently calm now to simply order Hogan out, so the American colonel left. However, as he walked back to barracks 2, he had an idea of how they might get some of that information—if only they could figure out who Nimrod was.

* * *

Hogan slogged through the March mud back to Barracks 2 in a very thoughtful mood. Finding Nimrod was going to be a problem; the only contact the Heroes had ever had with the celebrated British spy was more than a year ago. A brief note (attached to secret plans for a German jet airplane) had been discovered inside a box containing a model airplane kit that had been supposedly supplied by the Red Cross:

 _My dear Colonel—_

 _Clever, the way you got Wagner out of that prison camp. Kindly be just as clever and get these plans out of this one._

 _Until we meet again—_

 _Nimrod_

"Until we meet again"? They had never met Nimrod the first time around, and had never heard from him—or her—since. How on earth could they find the master spy now? Hogan shook his head as he opened the barracks door.

Kinch, Newkirk, Baker, LeBeau and Carter were waiting for him, and obviously what they had overheard on the coffeepot tap was not what they had expected. They stared at their commander with varying degrees of bewilderment, and Hogan stared back at them, not sure where to start.

Finally Kinch said, "Why the heck is Hochstetter wasting time looking for Nimrod? Any Gestapo officer with a brain in his head would be making tracks for Argentina right now!"

"Yeah, well, nobody ever accused Hochstetter of having brains," Hogan replied. "We're the ones who got him all worked up about Nimrod in the first place, remember. That's probably why he thinks he can pick up the trail of the master spy right here at Stalag 13."

Baker shook his head. "And now we're stuck with Hochstetter in our midst at a time like this."

"But why can't we just get rid of 'im, guv'nor?" Newkirk said in a plaintive tone. "What good is having Hochstetter on our doorstep?"

"I know how to get rid of him," Carter said, nodding wisely.

All eyes turned to him, and LeBeau cleared his throat. "Please enlighten us, mon ami."

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Please do."

Carter shrugged. "It's simple, guys. We just give him what he wants."

"Give him Nimrod?" Kinch began to laugh. "Even if we were willing to do something as treasonous as that, we don't have a clue who Nimrod is, any more than Hochstetter does."

"Hold on a minute," Hogan said. "Carter's on the right track, believe it or not. We should give Nimrod to Hochstetter."

"Crackers," Newkirk muttered to himself. "Round the bleedin' bend, he is." He raised his voice. "And supposin' we find Nimrod, Colonel? Why would we do something so stupid as to give 'im to Hochstetter?"

There was a familiar gleam in Hogan's eye as he wrapped his arms around himself. "Because Hochstetter believes Nimrod has important information that would hurt the German cause. That's the kind of information London is looking for right now." He paused. "Presumably Nimrod has not already transmitted this information to London."

Kinch's eyes widened. "And if he—or she—hasn't transmitted that information…"

"Then it is up to us to do it, _vite!_ " LeBeau announced.

Carter looked from one face to another. "I was just trying to make a joke, guys! How would giving Nimrod to Hochstetter get us that information, anyway?"

"We don't even know who or where Nimrod is," Baker grumbled. "We're talking in circles here!"

"Not at all," said Hogan. "Nobody knows who Nimrod is, so all we have to do is produce him—or her—and Hochstetter will reveal everything we need to know."

"Okay, I get it," said Kinch. "So who's going to play Nimrod?"

"Good question," Hogan replied. "And the winner is…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

"Another German pulling up, Colonel!" Garlotti shouted from his post by the door, interrupting Hogan mid-sentence.

"Well, that's not quite who I had in mind," Hogan sighed. "Anybody we know?"

Garlotti peered outside, squinting his eyes. "Dunno. He doesn't look familiar."

Hogan stood up and made for the window. A drab-colored _Kübelwagen_ with some sort of insignia painted on its doors pulled up alongside Hochstetter's staff car. A Luftwaffe officer stepped out, slamming the door behind himself and rocking the small vehicle on its wheels. He tugged a worn officer's cap onto his head, setting it at the angle favored by combat flyers, and jogged up the steps to Klink's office, barely acknowledging the private keeping guard at the door, who was standing at attention as if his life depended on it.

"And so the plot thickens," Hogan observed. "What do you fellas say to a cup of coffee?"

"Sounds good," Kinch said. "Though I'm wondering how good."

"Let's go find out."

* * *

The door to Klink's office flew open, making the perpetually nervous Kommandant start in his chair. Hochstetter, anticipating the return of the insufferable Hogan, turned round with his teeth already grating together, and found himself confronted with a cross-looking Luftwaffe officer.

"Are you Major Wolfgang Hochstetter?"

"Yes, I am," the man in question growled, none too happily. "Who wants to know?"

"Colonel Franz Kohlrausch. I'm in command of the fighter wing two districts over," the man said irritably, throwing up a hand in bored acknowledgement of Klink's salute. "Are you the one responsible for that blasted radio car that's being towed around the area?"

"Yes, why?"

"You have to shut it down. It's interfering with the radios in our aircraft. Communications get scrambled every time we fly over the wretched thing and so do location transmissions."

"Pity. I recommend you fly around it next time." Hochstetter snipped, in no mood for further delays.

Kohlrausch's eyebrows lowered. "Major, that was an order."

"The Gestapo does not take orders from the Luftwaffe, much less field officers."

Klink, eager to dissolve the growing tension and noting the lack of any additional staff milling about the office, asked what he took to be a neutral question. "Colonel Kohlrausch, you can't have driven yourself all the way here?"

"Yes, I did!" Kohlrausch snapped, verbally rounding on the hapless Kommandant. "Because all of my staff are currently filling bomb craters in our runways, as are my off-duty pilots. Some of us are actually busy fighting a war, instead of polishing chairs with our backsides or running about playing spy."

"Playing spy! Bah! I am in close pursuit of the single greatest threat to German national security!"

"The greatest threat to German security crossed the Rhine yesterday afternoon, Major," Kohlrausch said, his voice like acid.

"No doubt thanks to the Luftwaffe! You fighter pilots are so useless you can't even protect your own airfields from bombing raids!"

Kohlrausch lost his composure at the insult. He barked a retort at Hochstetter, comparing members of the Gestapo to various species of invertebrates. Hochstetter, not to be outdone, accused the collective Luftwaffe of a detailed list of vices. The argument continued to rise in volume and viciousness, threatening to overwhelm the coffee pot's limited capabilities with a deluge of furious German.

"Domestic quarrels. Such a tragedy," Newkirk said, shaking his head.

Hogan grinned. "I would go watch the fireworks myself, but something tells me I wouldn't be welcome."

"Entertaining as it is to listen to the Krauts rip each other apart, weren't you going to tell us about your plan for Nimrod, Colonel?" queried Baker.

"That I was. But our family quarrel here has put a new spin on things," Hogan said, remembering the schematic of the jet.

Carter made a face. "We're not going to have one of the Germans play Nimrod, are we, sir?"

"Not necessarily. Of course, that all depends on a few different puzzle pieces…and who ever said Nimrod was only one person?"

* * *

Kinch waited nervously for Newkirk to finish picking the lock. Colonel Hogan's plan to create multiple possible Nimrods was equal parts brilliant and insane. The plan had no business working but Kinch had no doubts that it would—Hogan's plans somehow always did.

Hat pulled as low as it would go, Kinch peeked around the corner of a hallway in the Luftwaffe base they had snuck into. No one was in sight. Good.

"Got it," Newkirk said as he pushed open the door to Kohlrausch's office.

Slipping inside, the two POWs quickly got to work. Newkirk pulled out a camera and began searching for any intelligence that would be valuable to London. Kinch set down his bag and pulled out a transmitter radio. He just needed a place to hide it.

A fake plant provided the perfect cover, especially once he realized that the radio would fit under the pot. Now he just had to connect the wires to the building's system and run the antenna up the back up the plant. Taking out his tools, Kinch got to work.

"Jackpot!" Newkirk exclaimed in a loud whisper. "A map of the anti-aircraft batteries for the whole area."

Kinch smiled as he connected the final wires. "Got it. You have everything you need?"

Newkirk replied by patting his pocket.

"Be ready to move quick." Kinch turned the dials so that they were set up to talk to a very special set. Then he turned the radio on so that it could receive. His final task was to hide a well-read British novel next to the radio before following the English POW out the door. Anyone who worked in communications knew that the most secure codes were those that used numbers to designate which word on a specific page, paragraph and line that one was referring to. The code only worked if both parties had access to the same edition of a novel, and anyone who saw an English book next to a hidden radio would assume the worst.

And if there was one thing they could count on, it was Hochstetter assuming the worst.

* * *

LeBeau did his best to look calm and in control as he followed Carter into Gestapo headquarters. They knew the building well—they'd been inside plenty of times before—and they knew that as long as you were in uniform and acted like you had a reason for being there, you were rarely questioned. Colonel Hogan liked to joke that the Keystone Cops had better security, whatever that meant.

When they arrived at Hochstetter's office the hallway was clear. So pulling out a key that Newkirk had borrowed ages ago, LeBeau unlocked the door and stepped inside. The place gave him the spooks. It was basic: desk, chairs, file cabinets. The only decorations were the photos of Hitler and other party leaders on the walls.

Wordlessly, Carter moved to the desk and began looking through the papers, while LeBeau inspected the file cabinets. He pulled out anything that looked interesting and handed it over to the American to photograph, taking careful note of where he got it from to make sure that it was returned to the same spot. Meanwhile, he carefully added new files to the stacks.

Those files were the main reason for their mission this night. The files contained high level intelligence: some fake, some real but outdated. And all of the files concerned intelligence that Hochstetter was not authorized to see; if they were discovered they would make people wonder if the Gestapo officer was entirely loyal.

Finished, LeBeau looked over at Carter who was photographing papers at Hochstetter's desk. "Find anything useful?"

"Locations of some checkpoints and ammo dumps in the area."

"Finish up. I do not want to be found in here."

"No kidding."

It didn't Carter long to put the camera away and tidy up the desk. Once they were safely out of the building, LeBeau looked at his friend and said, "I wonder how Colonel Hogan is doing?"

* * *

At that very moment, Hogan was doing what he did best: conning poor Klink. The Kommandant was suffering from shattered nerves after the visits of Kohlrausch and the increasingly irascible Hochstetter, and he had begged the American colonel to spend the evening playing chess.

"As if I didn't have enough to worry about, Colonel Hogan," Klink said as he morosely viewed the chess pieces lined up on the board. "Your American bombers are flying day and night laying waste to the countryside, while here at Stalag 13 I struggle to keep you and hundreds of your comrades safe and fed. There is no justice in this war."

"No justice in any war, Kommandant," Hogan said absently as he reached for one of his knights. _Too bad Newkirk isn't here,_ he thought, caressing the smooth wooden surface of the playing piece. _I'm not exactly the greatest at this sleight-of-hand stuff._

But fortunately at that moment the telephone on Klink's desk jangled. As the Kommandant crossed the room to answer it, Hogan swiftly exchanged the knight for one he pulled from his pocket.

"Kommandant Klink here...Oh! General Burkhalter, how nice of you to call...Yes, yes, I know, nothing is nice in Germany right now...Tomorrow? Well, of course, but…." He pulled the receiver from his ear and stared at it blankly. "He didn't even say Heil Hitler."

Hogan shook his head. "Risky business to forget that, with the Gestapo so jumpy right now and all. Do I take it we will be receiving a visitor tomorrow at our little resort here?"

Klink dropped the receiver into its cradle and came back to his chair to drop himself in it. "Yes, and I am not looking forward to it. Things are going from very, very bad to unimaginably bad, Hogan. "

"Oh, I don't know about that," Hogan replied with a casual shrug. "The General might even tone down Hochstetter a bit, since he can't stand the guy." He paused, frowning. "Or not. Funny how Hochstetter is trying to track down this Nimrod character, and Burkhalter just happens to show up. Not that _I_ know anything about it; I never even heard of Nimrod before Hochstetter started ranting about him."

"I wish _I_ had never heard of him!" Klink said bitterly. "Would you believe that eighteen months ago Hochstetter and General Burkhalter were in this very office, accusing _ME_ of being Nimrod! Such nonsense!"

Hogan linked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "Hmmm."

"What?" Instantly alarmed, Klink looked up from the chessboard. "Hogan, what do you mean by that?"

Hogan gave a sigh and leaned toward his opponent, concern written all over his face. "There's never smoke without fire, Kommandant. If those two suspected you _then_ , I wouldn't be surprised if they _still_ suspect you."

"Why not?" the Kommandant said with a voice of utter despair. "If the Russians don't get here soon the Americans will, so what does it matter if Hochstetter has me executed before that happens?"

"Take it easy, okay?" Hogan soothed. "Put yourself in my hands, Colonel Klink, and I'll make sure you're around to hand over the camp when that nineteen-year-old second lieutenant drives through the front gates with his Sherman tank. You remember—the high school senior from Wichita, Kansas? I might even put in a good word for you."

Klink fixed his anxious blue gaze on the man seated across from him. "You promise?"

"I promise. Word of an officer and a gentleman."

* * *

Back in Barracks 2, Hogan entered the common room and looked around. He noted with relief that Kinch and Newkirk had returned, flushed with success from their part of the mission. But two men were still missing, and Hogan frowned. "LeBeau and Carter not back yet?"

"No," said Kinch. "But it shouldn't be long now."

"They had to take Klink's motorcycle, you know," Olsen offered. "That thing's been acting up lately."

"Yeah, I know." Hogan began to pace as the entire barracks watched. "Okay, Kohlrausch and Hochstetter are accounted for. I've left a phony microfilm in a chess piece in Klink's office, so that takes care of the Kommandant. Plus we've got Burkhalter coming tomorrow. If he's carrying any intel, we'll switch it out with papers that finger him as a British spy."

"Hoo-boy," Baker said. "Then we'll have yet another candidate for Nimrod on the premises!"

"Don't forget Schultz," said LeBeau. "His overcoat is now carrying maps of troop movements."

Kinch grinned. "And Captain Gruber, Lieutenant Bergmann and Corporal Langenscheidt all have incriminating evidence in their footlockers. Nimrods galore, Colonel."

Baker tossed aside the worn paperback he'd been reading. "Looks like all the bases are covered, sir. Seems like the only thing we're missing is…"

The bunk entrance flew up at that moment and LeBeau and Carter climbed out. Hogan noted with alarm that they didn't look too happy. "What's wrong, fellas? Didn't you manage to get into Hochstetter's office?"

 _"Oui, certainement!_ We did, _mon Colonel,_ but we had difficulties coming back here."

"Boy, did we ever," Carter interjected. "First we had a flat tire, then when we got to the tree stump, somebody was waiting for us!"

A premonition of disaster swept over Hogan, and he said bluntly, "Who?"

A third person climbed out of the bunk entrance and Hogan's premonition was fulfilled. In spades.

"Hogan, _darling!"_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Hogan rolled his eyes as Newkirk whispered to Kinch, "If she's Nimrod, I'll eat my hat."

"I didn't want to startle you by coming in unexpectedly," Marya explained.

"Your being anywhere near startles me," Hogan replied testily as she pulled pictures out of a small purse.

She pretended not to hear. "I need your help. First, only certain people in England know who I am."

Newkirk turned his head and covered his eyes. "Please, not that. Not even Louis could make a hat taste good."

She placed the photos on the table for the prisoners to inspect as LeBeau protested, "I could make anything taste appealing with enough sauce. That's why Americans will eat some of what they do smothered in ketchup."

"That is my father and me with one of his cousins," Marya said, pointing to one of the photos.

Newkirk finally dared to look. "Blimey, he was King of England back when I was a lad."

"Look, lady, what are you trying to pull?" Hogan asked impatiently.

"I am telling you, I am the daughter of the late Czar Nicholas Romanov, the one who they say escaped when the Czar and his family were killed," Marya emphasized. "I need to get out of Germany so I can be used to sneak back in and do my best to serve as an agent against the Reds."

"Incredible; I have been kissed by a princess!" LeBeau said, swooning like a lovestruck teen.

Carter chuckled. "You know, Colonel, it makes sense she'd say that. I always thought Marya seemed a lot like the King and the Duke."

Newkirk turned confoundedly toward Carter, staring as if Carter had just spoken in Martian. "What king and what duke? You're not making any sense."

"I think he's talking about 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,'" Kinch said evenly.

Newkirk clearly had no idea what that was.

"You've never read Huckleberry Finn? You don't know what you're missing. See, he's first introduced…" Carter began.

"Save the literature lesson for later," Hogan said in a tone that ended the discussion. He turned to Marya. "Look, not only do we have no way to confirm your story, soon a bunch of people are going to be fingered as a top British agent, while we try to locate the real one to send some important information to London because we can't use the radio!"

"Nimrod? I can tell you who that is. But, you must promise to help me."

Hogan fretted, pulling his elbows in as far as they would go. "Are you crazy? What's next, asking us to help you restore your crown?"

Marya sighed. "Alas, I would be barred by Salic Law."

"What do I care? I will gladly be your Prince Charming," LeBeau pledged.

"Why not have her come with me, she'd make a great circus act with that claim," Newkirk cracked.

"Look, if you need us to get you to England we can try, just stay out of…" Hogan stopped himself. "Wait, I'd better ask. Please tell me you're not Nimrod!"

"Very well, I am not," she said decisively.

Newkirk saw LeBeau inspecting his hat near the stove. "Give it back," he said as he swiped it.

"But, if we work together, I can make your life much easier," Marya promised.

Hogan grimaced. "All right, just go back in the tunnel and wait while we talk." He sighed. Once she left, he remarked, "Well, I figured she wasn't, she was nowhere near, to my knowledge, and couldn't have gotten those plans into camp with that message."

"I know we go over this a lot," Baker said, "but who do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure." Hogan knew it was quite possible one of the men was Nimrod—indeed, they hadn't targeted Klink's secretary yet, and she was also possible. Some of the higher-ups had direct access to put the plans in that box that time, and it was just possible that their recent visitor had known about their use of Nimrod because he was nearby. However, at least if one of those they'd fingered was Nimrod, they'd also thrown the Germans off the trail with lots of diversions. "I only know one thing; I'm glad it's not her."

* * *

Marya lounged on the bunk in the radio room, adjusting her fur coat so that it lay suggestively across her body. She didn't know how long the conversation upstairs would go on, but she would be ready when they returned. It was rather cute. Hogan and his men always spent so much time debating whether to do things her way, before giving in to the inevitable. They were, after all, just men. And convincing men to dance to her tune was as natural to her as breathing.

Lighting a cigar, Marya did her best to wait patiently—a necessary skill in her line of work. The harder task was trying to ignore the austere and depressing environment that surrounded her; she hoped that 'military tunnel' never came into vogue. She did her best work surrounded by opulence, a trait that Stalag 13 would never possess.

Then, just when she was in danger of getting bored, she heard footsteps. Looking up, she grinned. Hogan was walking toward her. Alone.

Hogan, however, was still not happy to see her. And he stopped, arms crossed a couple of meters away from her. "Do I understand your deal correctly, we get you out of Germany and you give us Nimrod?"

"Exactly. I give you a name then I leave on your little submarine. No problem. Now come here, kiss me, hold me." Marya opened her arms wide. She intended to make the best of the all too short time they had left together.

"No submarines. No planes from London. The escape route has been shut down. Orders from the top."

Marya lowered her arms. That news was unfortunate; her plan depended on Hogan getting her out of the country. But one look at the American officer told her that he wasn't done talking and that he was enjoying believing that he was now in control. Smiling, she said, "I trust that you won't let a little difficulty like that stop you."

"I can help. But this time, we do things my way. First, I need you to disappear."

Placing a hand over her heart, Marya gasped. "Hogan, I'm hurt. We work so wonderfully together. Why would you send me away?"

"Only for a couple of days. I need time for my plans for Hochstetter to play out. Then once everyone is busy chasing false leads, I want you to return to camp with the real Nimrod. I think that Stalag 13 would be the perfect place for an influential Nazi official to hide out at before fleeing with his new love to Argentina."

Putting out her cigar, Marya rose. She had to admit that was a plan she could work with. After all, it simply required her to use her best talents. To show her appreciation she wrapped her arms around Hogan. "I knew it! We work so well together. Tell me that you'll miss me." She leaned in close.

Hogan held up a hand between their lips. "Wait. Aren't you forgetting something? I need the name of Nimrod."

"And ruin the surprise? Hogan, darling, trust me. When I return to camp, it will be with the real Nimrod at my side." Then before he could say another word, their lips were pressed together in a passionate embrace.

Even Hogan, for all his protests, could never resist her.

* * *

Marya wrinkled her nose as she crept into the hiding place. Pushing aside a friendly German shepherd who was trying to lick her face, she addressed the other human occupant of the dog kennel.

"It is arranged! Hogan will help both of us."

The person known as Nimrod regarded her with suspicion. "Both of us? He knows I'm a British agent, but why would he help you?"

Marya sighed. "Why shouldn't he? Have I not helped him in the past?"

"From what I have heard, with help like yours it's amazing that Hogan survived, let alone continued with his operation."

"Ah, but you do not know me! We have only recently met, so I can forgive you for your unkind mistrust."

"We may only have just met, but I know a great deal about you," Nimrod said grimly. "And that's another thing! How did you find out who I am, and where I've been hiding? Schnitzer's been kind enough to hide me, but even he doesn't know my real identity."

Marya tossed her head, dislodging her extravagant fur hat onto the floor of the kennel. One of the dogs sniffed at it, and with a sidelong glance at the Russian woman, picked it up and carried it out of the kennel. A muted sound of digging ensued, but Marya took no notice.

"It is safer for Schnitzer that way, darling," she said. "And the poor man was more than happy to look the other way when I arrived. I forgive him, as I forgive you."

"You didn't answer my question, did you? How did you find out about me?"

"Darling! I do not reveal all my secrets. Is it so difficult to imagine that I discovered a few stray bits of information, and was able to put the pieces together?"

"Never mind, it doesn't matter." Nimrod grimaced, shifting position on the hard wooden floor. "What does matter is that I have vital information that must be delivered to London as soon as possible. In person."

"No offense, darling, but why did you not turn to Hogan in the first place, if this is so important?"

Her companion sighed. "I feared that he would not believe that I am Nimrod, in view of our past encounters. And the forced evacuations of so many POW camps make Stalag 13 not quite the secure place it used to be. How could he help me at a time like this?"

"Never fear, darling. No one has been evacuated from Stalag 13...yet." She smiled, remembering. "And Hogan will come up with a plan to help both of us. He has never failed me yet!"

"I wish I had your confidence. Hochstetter is hot on the trail of Nimrod, and at this point in the war he has nothing to lose. He'll be especially vengeful once he realizes that he's met me before under a different identity."

Sensing a need for comfort, one of the dogs snuggled up to the British agent, whining softly. Nimrod glanced down at the dog with a sigh and automatically began to stroke its fur.

Marya spoke again, this time with a bracing tone that made all of the dogs prick up their ears. "You have no faith in my Hogan! At this very moment he is arranging for multiple Nimrods to be discovered at Stalag 13; in the confusion Hochstetter will never know that we have made our escape."

"Multiple Nimrods? How—" The British agent stopped abruptly. "Never mind; it's probably better that I don't know what Hogan is up to, as long as he can help me—us—get to London."

"Exactly, darling!"

Nimrod gave an unwilling chuckle, adding: "I can just imagine the chaos, though. It almost makes me feel sorry for Hochstetter."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The roar of the low-flying Messerschmitt's engine tore through the air, the sound loud enough to penetrate the sturdy walls of Hochstetter's radio car. The young Gestapo agent operating the machinery flinched at the noise, cursing under his breath.

His companion chuckled. "Afraid they're going to strafe us, Hans?"

"The way _Major_ Hochstetter's been acting, it wouldn't surprise me," Hans grumbled, adjusting the headset covering his ears. "Look at what he has us doing, sitting right off of one of their runways, just trying to make that _Oberst_ he's feuding with angry. There's no reason we should be here."

"Hochstetter's orders are reason enough. Be glad you're sitting off of a Luftwaffe runway instead of an American one. The boss could send us to the front like that—" he said with a snap of his fingers, "and you wouldn't have the luxury of complaint anymore."

Hans sighed and rubbed his head. " _Du hast recht._ Still, I don't want to be here once those fighter pilots figure out where the radio interference is coming from."

 _"Ach,_ that's no matter. Give me the signal and we'll burn out of here on two wheels."

"I think a Messerschmitt might be able to outpace a Mercedes, Gustav," Hans said, smiling a bit. His smile faded as he adjusted one of the main dials, though, and he shushed the driver violently. He sat very still for a long time, then removed the headset from his ears. He looked over at Gustav with apprehension on his pale face. "I'm picking up something. Sounds like it's coming from the base."

Gustav frowned. Maybe Hochstetter was right for once. "What sort of thing?"

"…I think it's the BBC."

* * *

Rookie fighter pilot and first-time Gestapo infiltrator Rudi Kirschner stood watch at the door of _Major_ Hochstetter's office, trying to keep his mind off of how many laws he was currently breaking. He glanced over his shoulder at his partner in inter-service espionage, a more experienced pilot named Erik Stirn, who was in the process of rifling through Hochstetter's filing cabinets.

"Remind me why we're here again," Rudi whispered.

"Because we don't want _Oberst_ Kohlrausch getting put in front of a firing squad for mouthing off at that pipsqueak of a Gestapo officer. If his file's fat enough, he has friends who can get him transferred."

"I think we're running a better risk of death by firing squad than the _Oberst_ is, at the moment."

Erik shrugged. "Firing squad or fiery crater in the ground. Take your pick."

Rudi looked down at his sleeve and picked a few specks of lint off of the black material, trying to hide his nervousness. "Where did we get these uniforms from, anyway?"

"Some friends at the supply station owed us a favor. We saved them from a squadron of Lancasters once," Erik muttered, flipping rapidly through files Kaepernick through Krauss.

Rudi slinked over and peered at the documents. "Is there anything there under Kirschner?"

"There will be if you don't get back to the door!" Erik snapped.

" _Jawohl,"_ Rudi acquiesced, then did a double take. " _Moment_ —go back to that last file, the one labeled Klink."

"We don't have time to look up dirt on all of your friends, Kirschner."

"I know, I know, that's not what I meant—here, look, this is a map showing all of our forward bases prior to the invasion. That's classified information, no one outside of fighter command is supposed to see it!"

Erik regarded him critically. "And you know that how, _Leutnant?_ "

"I had a staff position before I was called up for flight training. But look," he exclaimed quietly, pulling out another file. "This one shows all of the Western fuel refineries, with convoy routes. And what's that behind it?"

"The total cost of _Reichsmarschall_ Goering's summer wardrobe, itemized and alphabetized," Erik said grimly. "Top secret, Luftwaffe only."

" _Heiliger Strohsack_ …"

Erik replaced the files and closed the filing cabinet decisively. "Forget Kohlrausch's file. There's enough in here to put that _Major_ in front of his own firing squad. The _Oberst_ is going to get a kick out of this... _los_ , let's get out of here before someone catches us in these uniforms. I'd hate having to explain this to my mother."

* * *

The second battle of Stalag 13 couldn't have had better timing. Klink was just finishing up a particularly boring roll call as for some reason his heart was no longer into spewing propaganda at his captive audience, when Colonel Kohlrausch stormed into camp.

It wasn't long before the officer practically dragged Klink into his office. So it was left to Hogan to dismiss his men before slipping into the room behind the Germans.

Kohlrausch was shaking with rage as he towered over an also shaking Colonel Klink—although for different reasons. "This man, this _traitor_ has gone too far this time. First he accuses me of being Nimrod and blocks off my access to my airfield. Endangering our beloved Fatherland over a power play! Then my men discovered evidence that he is the very traitor he seeks."

"Of course, Colonel. May I ask who are you referring to?"

Kohlrausch growled, "Hochstetter and the nest of traitors that is the Gestapo!"

Raising the glass of schnapps he had poured, Hogan said, "So the Gestapo are the bad guys. Whoever would have thought?"

It was a testament to the extent of his rage that Kohlrausch ignored that quip as he instead pressed his case. "General Burkhalter must be informed immediately."

Klink squirmed beneath the other man's gaze. "I assure you, sir, that General Burkhalter is on the way and should be here shortly."

"Not good enough! I will take command of your guards and we will lead an assault to take back my airfield."

Hogan grinned. "Oh, I love a good battle. Also, if the guards are gone, does that mean we are free to go? I'd hate to miss the end of the war."

Even when the world was falling apart around him, Klink never missed his cue. "No one escapes from Stalag 13."

"Right. Can't have a bunch of prisoners running around. The locals might think that crazy man in Berlin has finally came to his senses and surrendered."

"Hogan!"

The American took another sip of his drink. This was about to get good.

As if his thoughts were prophecy, the door opened as Schultz stepped into the room, looking like he wished that he was stationed on the front. "Colonel Klink, I beg to report that ... that..."

"That what?" both Klink and Kohlrausch yelled.

Schultz took two steps to his left, and Major Hochstetter stood triumphantly in the frame. He was carrying a machine gun, looking just as ridiculous as the last time. "Aha! I knew it! Here it is! Nimrod meeting with Papa Bear."

If Kohlrausch was intimidated by the gun, he didn't show it. "The only Nimrod I see is you. My men found enough evidence in your office that we won't need a trial, traitor! Not that there was any doubt. Only one man in this room has decided to impede the work of a vital defense base!"

"Better for no planes to fly at all, then for them to fly under the command of a spy!" Raising his weapon, Hochstetter said, "You are under arrest!"

Kohlrausch pulled out a gun. "No, _you_ are under arrest."

While Hogan was debating the benefits of adding his opinion to this lively debate, Schultz took matters into his own hands and dove under the closest table. Or at least, he tried to. The guard's jacket caught on a chair, causing him to stumble into the table, scattering the chess board and pieces all over the floor. The seams of his jackets ripped as he jerked away from the chair and landed on the floor.

The room was silent as one very special chess piece caught Kohlrausch's eye as he reached down and pulled a length of microfilm out of the knight. "Klink, what is the meaning of this?"

Klink spluttered off some nonsense that would have condemned him to the firing squad if Hochstetter had been listening. But the Gestapo officer was busy staring at the now exposed map on Schultz's person.

Schultz gave the papers one quick glance before squeezing his eyes shut and turning away. "I know nothing! Nothing!"

* * *

Meanwhile, out in the compound…

An open staff car rolled through the gates and came to a halt alongside the Kommandantur with a squeal of brakes. A rotund man heaved himself from the driver's seat and courteously went to the passenger side to assist a lovely lady to alight. Then he opened the rear door to assist a second lovely lady out of the car.

His chivalrous duty done, the man took a moment to pause and frown thoughtfully at the two cars which were already parked in the compound: a dusty _Kübelwagen_ and an equally dusty black staff car with tattered swastika flags drooping from each fender. However, his contemplation was interrupted when a Luftwaffe officer rushed up to offer his salute.

"Welcome, _Herr General!"_ stuttered an agitated Captain Gruber, while an equally agitated Corporal Langenscheidt hurried to join him, almost knocking off his garrison cap with his own salute.

General Burkhalter returned the salutes absently and addressed the officer. "Gruber, what is this? Germany is teetering on the brink of disaster, and I find Stalag 13 playing host to visitors?"

"Only Colonel Kohlrausch and Major Hochstetter, _Herr General,_ " Gruber said faintly. "But I would not say that they are visiting. In fact, I…"

He was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming open, and all eyes turned to the Kommandantur. The startled corporal standing guard on the porch tried to come to attention, but he was knocked off his feet by a surge of humanity pouring forth in the manner of a clown car emptying itself of its passengers.

Leading the way was the Sergeant of the Guard, who stumbled down the steps uttering sounds of anguish. He was followed by the familiar figures of an irate (as usual) Major Hochstetter and a dithering (as usual) Colonel Klink. Next came an unfamiliar Luftwaffe colonel who was shouting unintelligibly, and bringing up the rear was Colonel Hogan, who had a bemused look on his face.

Burkhalter regarded the new arrivals with disfavor and spoke sharply to the one who had the misfortune to encounter him first. "Schultz, control yourself. It is most distressing to see a soldier of the Reich behave in such a fashion!"

Wide-eyed with terror, Sergeant Schultz could only gasp like a fish at the sight of the General, and one of the lovely ladies clucked her tongue in sympathy. "Sergeant Schultz appears quite upset. Shall I fetch him a glass of water, _Herr General?"_

"Please do, _Frӓulein_ Hilda," Burkhalter growled. "Anything to stop that sniveling!"

The second lovely lady (who happened to be Marya) smiled quizzically as she surveyed the group of men in front of the Kommandantur, two of whom were engaged in a rather nasty argument with guns waving about. She pitched her voice to be heard above the din. "Major Hochstetter and Colonel Klink I have met," she said, with eyebrows arched. "Also Hogan darling. But who is _this_ handsome man?"

Seeing that he was the focus of the lady's attention, Kohlrausch stopped short in the middle of his tirade and turned even more red than he had been before. But he collected himself enough to realize that there was a superior officer present, and he holstered the pistol he had been brandishing. He offered Burkhalter a brisk salute, muttering, " _Entschuldigung, Herr General!"_

He turned to the two ladies, clicking his heels and giving a very correct bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Colonel Franz Kohlrausch, of _Jagdgeschwader 7_. I apologize for the unpleasant scene, but I am here to uncover a traitor in our midst!"

He directed an accusatory finger at Hochstetter, but his opponent was undaunted. The Major obviously still considered Kohlrausch his primary target but was more than willing to accept other candidates for the position, and he had a machine-gun at the ready to enforce his final decision. His glare swept from Kohlrausch to encompass his entire audience, which by now included most of the prisoners and all of the guards at Stalag 13.

 _"EVERYBODY IS UNDER ARREST!"_

Hogan spoke calmly, as if Hochstetter had merely said the sky was blue. "Including you, Major?"

"Of course not!" Hochstetter screamed.

"I have proof, Major, that you are a traitor!" Kohlrausch screamed. Klink cowered, fearing the whole mess would start again.

"You know, in the Old West that insult was grounds for a duel," Hogan stated bluntly, wondering which of the two would demand one first.

"Bah, I do not have to duel with this traitor," Hochstetter blurted, pointing his gun at Kohlrausch.

"You are the filthy traitor, Hochstetter," Kohlrausch stormed.

"All right, look," Hogan said, as if trying to reason with both, "so we don't get any innocents shot here…"

"Bah, nobody here is innocent, this camp is filled with traitors!" Hochstetter persisted.

Hogan nodded sharply. "And if Kohlrausch is the real Nimrod, or especially if he isn't, you can't just shoot him. Do you realize how hard the Luftwaffe will come down on you for shooting the man who should be defending every square inch of German soil?"

Hochstetter glared at Hogan, but seemed to be giving it a little thought.

"Now, since he accused you, though, and your Prussian military honor has been besmirched, you can kill him off in a duel right here in this compound." Hogan smiled conspiratorially. "Remember that traitor who tried to flee in a car, and you hit the gas cap? They said you were brilliant."

Hochstetter seethed, but saw some merit in what Hogan was saying. "Very well, but I will surround this camp with a ring of steel, and once I have rid it of this traitor, I will take care of all of you!"

"Sir, Major Hochstetter here has challenged you to a duel, you get to choose your weapon," Hogan informed Kohlrausch.

"I will choose!" Hochstetter shouted.

Kohlrausch surprised Hogan by agreeing. "I am a good shot, too, Major. I promise you that with equal weapons, I shall shoot first and you will not get to shoot! A fitting end for a traitor like you!"

Hogan turned to Schultz, who was by now drinking some water. "Better get them each weapons from the supply depot."

Once the other two left with Schultz toward the supply depot, Klink had a moment to regain his senses—and try to regain power over his camp as well. "Hogan," Klink stammered, "are you mad? I will not have a Wild West shootout in my camp while the Allies are at the door!"

"And blow your chance for a role in 'The Battle of Stalag 13'?" Hogan asked, visibly stunned. "Kommandant, once you get to Palm Springs—after I put in a good word for you with the war crimes people—you've got to name established as quickly as possible before all those other actors get re-established. And, what better way than as yourself." He held up his hand as if showing the display of a marquee. "I can see it now. All the beautiful girls surrounding you, Wilhelm Klink, the surprising young immigrant who overcame long odds to escape the horrors of war and make a name for himself under the lights. 'The Battle of Stalag 13,' with Humphrey Bogart, Byron Buckles, and Wilhelm Klink."

"You really think…?" Klink was a little flabbergasted, even with his normally vain demeanor.

Hogan nodded. "Of course, Kommandant. Otherwise, you'd have to start out as a lowly extra mopping the floor with a one-word line. 'Oops!' " He exaggerated the line with his face. Klink recoiled slightly at the thought of being known as a character who did something really dumb. "But once word gets out how you solved this whole thing, you can play yourself, the great Wilhelm Klink!"

"I never thought of playing myself in a movie. How often is that done?"

"Well, not too often, but, really, sir, who could ever come close to the real you?"

He saw Marya out of the corner of his eye as Klink turned slightly and put a finger to his chin, clearly thinking about it. He knew this was it as a couple of his men also signaled him over to Barracks 2.

"Just a minute, sir, my men need something," Hogan said. He walked over slowly and somewhat expectantly. All minds were on the compound, the yelling from the weapons depot, and the shootout that would soon take place, but he had a more important meeting. With Nimrod.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Watch where you're stepping, you blasted turncoat."

"Mind your own steps, traitor, they're some of the last you'll ever take."

"Hardly."

"Bah!"

Sergeant Schultz, walking just ahead of the two feuding officers, whimpered and thought of the nice, cool glass of water given to him by the kind _Fräulein_ Hilda, which was now resting forlornly on the steps of the Kommandantur, abandoned in the general haste and madness.

"I doubt your aim is any better than your ability to hide incriminating documents."

"This coming from the pig with audacity enough to send infiltrators into Gestapo headquarters!"

"Only after you threatened my men and grounded my aircraft, no doubt following orders given to you by Churchill!"

The small group rounded the corner of a barracks and Schultz increased his pace, trotting towards the weapons supply with fearful anxiety. "Just a few more steps…" he whispered to himself, already thinking of places to hide. He hoped he could find a quiet spot far away from the line of fire, possibly in the prisoner's barracks, and sit out the rest of this insane day. Maybe the rest of the war, too, if he was lucky…

His hopes were dashed by a sudden snarl from Hochstetter and an outraged grunt from Kohlrausch, who had just been jabbed in the ribs by the barrel of a machine gun.

"Now I have you, Nimrod," Hochstetter hissed, "out of sight and out of mind. Those fools who fail to see reason can't save you now. _Hände hoch! Schnell!"_

Kohlrausch was having none of it. _"Schweinhund!"_ he spat, going for his gun.

Hochstetter knocked his hand away and thrust the barrel deeper into the colonel's chest. "Don't even try it, traitor! There will be no more of your tricks, now or ever!"

Schultz, utterly horrified by this turn of events, attempted to scuttle away while Hochstetter was distracted. Unfortunately the Major caught sight of him and spun round, pointing the gun at the distraught sergeant's substantial midsection.

"And you're his accomplice! All Luftwaffe, working together against the Third Reich!"

"I know nothing, nothing!" Schultz cried, raising his shaking hands.

"What is going on here!?"

All three of them turned to see General Burkhalter striding angrily towards them, followed closely by a keen-eyed Marya.

Kohlrausch straightened and adjusted his tie. _"Herr General_ , this wretched swine had no intention of participating in an honest duel. He was attempting to force the Sergeant and me into submission and presumably eliminate us."

Burkhalter frowned and Schultz flinched at the word 'eliminate'.

Marya clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You won't be regaining any honor by shooting your opponent before the duel begins, Wolfy."

Hochstetter chose to ignore the diminutive. "Duel! Ha! You think I would let any more weapons fall into the hands of this traitor? _Nein!_ He is to be taken in for questioning immediately!"

"But your honor, _Wölfchen!"_

Kohlrausch, who appeared far less intimidated by Hochstetter's threats than most men in his position would be, scoffed in contempt. "Honor? Ridiculous. I've fought against communists with more honor than this pig."

Hochstetter, grossly offended, made a noise more suited to an angry buzzard than a human being and raised the machine gun, evidently intending to forgo the interrogation and skip straight to the firing squad. Schultz covered his eyes, too terrified to watch.

General Burkhalter reached out and swatted the barrel towards the ground. "Major! Control yourself."

Hochstetter, his features twisted with fury, looked down at the gun, then at up Burkhalter, then over to Kohlrausch, then back to Burkhalter. His eyes grew wide and he inhaled sharply, backing away. " _Donnerwetter,_ " he growled, horrified realization dawning on his face.

The General and the Colonel exchanged a glance. Kohlrausch drew his pistol and moved to shield Marya.

Hochstetter jerked the gun up. "Not another step!" he shouted.

"Major…" Burkhalter began warningly.

Hochstetter bared his teeth. "That applies to you too, Burkhalter!" he snarled.

The general colored through all three of his chins. "Hochstetter, drop that weapon! Now!"

The Gestapo officer shook his head, a crazed light in his eyes. "No, no, it won't be that easy for you, not this time, Nimrod!"

Kohlrausch scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Make up your blasted mind about who you're going to pile with these groundless accusations, fool."

"Silence!" Hochstetter screeched. "I already have! I see it now, all of it! How Nimrod operated when this traitor wasn't here, how so many defectors disappeared into Stalag 13, how the sabotage continued unabated, all these years! All the clues, all the coincidences, they all point to one conclusion! _You're all Nimrod!"_

* * *

Hogan's plan to have a quiet word with a very special British spy while everyone was distracted by the duel was derailed by Hochstetter's rapid descent into madness. And while that descent had been part of Hogan's overall plans, the speed in which the madness had manifested meant that his target—along with the rest of camp—was now focused on dealing with a lunatic waving around a machine gun. There was no way now that he was going to be able to talk to Nimrod until Hochstetter had been taken care of.

Time for Plan B.

After a few whispered instructions to Kinch, Hogan trusted that his men would be ready to do their part. He headed back to the battle just in time to hear Hochstetter's pronouncement. Stepping into the circle of Germans and Marya, Hogan raised a hand. "Excuse me, Major, if we all are Nimrod does these mean that I am no longer Papa Bear?"

 _"YOU_ _ **ARE**_ _PAPA BEAR!"_

Kohlrausch exchanged a glance with Burkhalter, " _Herr General,_ has this man always been insane?"

"Invariably," Burkhalter said. "Major, if you haven't noticed you are outnumbered and outgunned." Then noticing that his backup was missing, he hollered, "Klink!"

Klink poked his head around the side of the barracks. "Yes, _Herr General."_

"Order your guards to arrest Major Hochstetter."

Klink whimpered and looked to Schultz. The guard reluctantly raised a rifle that none present believed was loaded and took a trembling step forward.

Hochstetter, however, wasn't giving up. "Halt or I will open fire!"

That was the cue Hogan was waiting on. He quickly stepped out of the way as POWs came from every direction carrying hoses, buckets and anything that could hold water.

The first spray of water hit Hochstetter right in the torso and he was pushed back into the nearest wall by the pressure. It didn't take long before Kohlrausch and the rest of Germans were similarly drenched. Plus, Hogan was pretty sure he saw Newkirk grinning as he made sure that Marya got more than her fair share of the action.

"Hogan!" Klink cried from where he had fallen in the mud. "Hoogaan!"

Hogan signaled for his men to stop. "The Major shouted fire. My men were just trying to help."

Carter nodded. "Yes, sir, A fire would spread quickly among the barracks. We had to act quickly to save our home."

"Who'd ever want to lose this paradise?" LeBeau muttered under his breath.

"Bah!" Hochstetter yelled as he threw his now useless water-clogged machine gun onto the ground.

Even looking like a drowned rat, Marya stepped forward like the princess she claimed to be as she called out, "Wolfy, darling, don't you think it's time for you to be getting on a plane to Argentina?"

Hogan's jaw dropped to the ground. This could not be! He thought Nimrod was...

Marya winked and Hogan inwardly growled. Curse that woman. She was playing him. Revenge for getting her furs wet, he was sure. Hochstetter was not their man.

"And leave the Fatherland to these traitors? Never!" Then without another word, Hochstetter stormed over to his car and sped out of camp. Never had Hogan been so happy to see him go.

Ever the practical one, Hilda began taking the officers' drenched coats while Burkhalter spoke to Kohlrausch. "After I make a few calls, I can promise that Hochstetter won't be bothering anyone anymore. I suggest you return to your post, before the Allies launch another offensive."

"Yes, _Herr General._ " Kohlrausch said with a salute and then hurried out of camp as quickly as his dignity allowed.

General Burkhalter watched as the _Kübelwagen_ disappeared through the front gates, splashing through the mud puddles that had been formed by the deluginous diversion.

"Most inexplicable," he remarked, shaking the water from his greatcoat before handing it to Hilda. "All of this nonsense about a British spy who is probably not even on this continent! And why should he be, with the Allies at our gates? Certainly there can be no reason why such a person would have _ever_ been interested in a little backwater POW camp like Stalag 13."

"Yes, yes, of course, _Herr General_!" Klink twittered. "I, of course, knew immediately that Nimrod was merely a product of Hochstetter's diseased mind. You recall that months ago he thought I was Nimrod! Absurd!"

Burkhalter evidently did not like being reminded of his own gullibility during that episode. "Absurd, indeed. Hochstetter was a fool, but it was all your fault just the same, Klink! Just like today."

"But, Herr General…"

"Enough!" Burkhalter turned to the two ladies present and favored them with a gracious (if soggy) bow. "I feel quite certain that it is time for me to leave now. _Danke_ for your company, my dears. I regret that I cannot take you both with me, but I believe I shall take _Fräulein_ Marya's advice; I understand Argentina is quite nice this time of year."

With that, he sloshed over to his waiting staff car, and soon it too splashed through the puddles and disappeared through the front gates.

Hogan watched it go and shook his head. "Damn!"

* * *

Shortly thereafter Hogan and his men retreated to Barracks 2, and Kinch tried to console his commander. "So Burkhalter wasn't Nimrod after all. At least Hilda was able to snitch some semi-important papers from the General during their car ride here. And we've got the info from Kohlrausch's and Hochstetter's offices too."

"Yeah," Hogan sighed. "But what about the information that Hochstetter suspected Nimrod of having? It had to be something big to bring that nutjob here in such a state."

"Back at square one, eh, guv'nor?" Newkirk commiserated. "Still, I thought the Russian bird promised to bring Nimrod here."

"When did Marya ever do anything in a straightforward manner?" Hogan grumbled. "LeBeau, maybe you'd better heat up some sauce Béarnaise for Newkirk's hat after all."

LeBeau was already at the stove stirring a pot. "I knew my Marya would be the one...a princess and the war's most notorious spy!"

Carter turned away from the makeshift clothesline that was now strung with dripping garments. "I don't know about that, Louis. She sure doesn't look like a Nimrod to me. Where the heck _IS_ Marya, anyway?"

Baker looked up from his book. "I saw her headed for the Kommandantur with Hilda. Maybe they were going to get dried out; poor Marya didn't look too happy in that ruined fur coat."

Hogan saw his duty clearly and squared his shoulders. "Guess I'd better head there myself. Wish me luck, men."

A few minutes later, Hogan opened the door of the outer office and frowned slightly. Hilda was not at her desk, but she'd been gone for weeks so he wasn't really surprised that she hadn't resumed her duties yet. However, there was a murmur of voices from behind the door of Klink's office, and Hogan moved silently to the door and put his ear against it.

Alas, his hearing wasn't what it used to be; no doubt due to all the explosions and rockets firing and whatnot during his sojourn at good old Stalag 13. He couldn't make out a single word!

Still, he knew that he had to face whatever was going on behind that door, and with a quick twist of the wrist he opened the door. And stood aghast as he viewed the scene before him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Hogan's first reaction was, why does Marya have to do things the hard way? Klink was tied up in his chair, gagged, and blindfolded.

Marya and Hilda—in dry black pants and shirts, Hitler masks, and hoods to hide their hair—were just finishing ransacking Klink's office. His safe was opened—apparently Marya had held the gun that now lay on Klink's desk to Klink's head and forced him to open it. _Of all the bird brained…_

At least Marya wasn't letting on she knew him. She dashed toward the gun and grabbed it. "You," she scowled in a thick German voice, "against that wall." Hogan held up his hands and walked toward Klink. "Do we have everything Hochstetter sent us for?"

" _Jawohl,_ " Hilda said in a low rough voice nobody could make out..

"In Hilda's office, too? Good; do not come after us," Marya snapped. She and Hilda quickly picked up sacks of papers and dashed out.

Hogan lost no time in taking the handkerchief out of Klink's mouth. The Kommandant spoke as Hogan removed the blindfold and untied him. "Hogan, it was awful. They said they were from Gestapo headquarters and Hochstetter ordered them here; I thought they were going to shoot me."

"Was it just me, or did they look like women?" Hogan asked absently, wondering if Klink was in his right mind enough to notice that.

"You may be right, but the one pulled a gun so fast…" Klink's head was still spinning. Once he was finally untied, he mourned, "Oh, Hogan, I can't believe that Hochstetter would do such a thing." When asked where Schultz was, Klink explained, "They said they tied him up in my bedroom."

"Well, Kommandant, looks like they robbed you blind," Hogan said with a sigh.

Klink nodded. All his drawers were pulled out of his desk and cabinet, papers were strewn about, and any important documents which he had were gone. He shuddered upon looking into the outer office—the door was still open—so Hogan went first.

"Hilda's desk has probably been cleaned out, too," Hogan said sadly as he tried to imagine what Marya was thinking and how she hoped he'd react. First, he needed to know, "Were their voices familiar?"

"I don't believe so…I was just so frightened I couldn't tell. Actually…I believe only the one spoke until the end when you came in." That would be Marya, Hogan perceived; he'd recognized her walk, and even more her wacky plans. "Did it seem familiar to you? Something almost did, but… no, I don't think so. Was it?"

Hogan recalled the same look on Klink's face when he'd thought Newkirk's sneeze reminded him of a guard he'd recruited, a fact Hogan had quickly convinced him was nonsense despite the fact Newkirk had in fact been that recruit. "I'm sure it wasn't, Kommandant; probably a guy pretending to be a lady," Hogan said.

"True, true. Hogan…will you come with me to get Schultz? After that I'm going to lie down."

Hogan understood; it would be the perfect time for him to see Nimrod then. "Sure, let's go."

Hogan smiled, satisfied, as they entered the Kommandant's quarters. Maybe Marya's plan hadn't been so bad. One grab of everything they had, a mad dash into the tunnel, and _voilà._ And perhaps Hilda was Nimrod—she could have worked for Burkhalter, too, and spent lots of time there and elsewhere.

Yes, Hogan pondered with a smile. This was therefore one of Marya's saner plans. Hilda as Nimrod; he'd sleep better with that, and Newkirk would certainly eat better.

They heard someone struggling. Klink backed off just as Carter ran over to the living quarters. The Sergeant reached Hogan just as Hogan began to open the door. "Sir!'

"Not now, Carter!" Hogan whispered tensely.

"But, sir, there's someone trying to…well, they're not somewhere they shouldn't be, but they're not not somewhere they shouldn't be."

Hogan rolled his eyes and gave Carter a look that said whatever it was, it could wait. Then he opened the door to see what the noise was.

It was General Burkhalter, now in a dry coat. Or, more appropriately, the top half of General Burkhalter. Klink's stove had been moved, and Burkhalter was wedged into the entrance, unable to move one way or the other.

Quickly slamming the door shut before Klink could see, Hogan searched for words to explain what was rapidly becoming inexplainable. "Sir, I don't think you want to go in there."

Klink was indignant. "I have been attacked, my office has been ransacked and I will not be denied access to my own quarters!"

"If you say so, sir. It's just Marya. She's ..." Hogan paused to let Klink imagination fill in the gaps.

Klink went white as he changed his mind. "Perhaps I will go lie down in the VIP hut. It will hard to rest surrounded by this mess."

Hogan nodded. "Of course. We'll take care of Schultz."

Once Klink scurried safely away, the American officer grabbed Carter's arm. "Get some men and make sure no one comes in or out of this building until I give the all clear. Tell Kinch to lock down the tunnels. I don't want any more surprises."

"Yes, sir."

Turning back to the door, Hogan took a deep breath and opened it again. The scene looked like it came straight from the pages of a Greek Tragedy. Burkhalter was still stuck, cursing as Hilda—back in her regular clothes—attempted to free the General. Marya had found some dry furs and was watching the whole incident with a bemused look on her face and a cigarette in her mouth.

But as absurd as the scene was, it that instance everything finally became clear.

The only reason Burkhalter was in the tunnels was because Marya wanted him to be there. The only reason Hilda was helping him was because Marya arranged for her to in the position to do. She was the puppeteer and they were all puppets dancing to her tune. Everyone. Including him.

Marya looked at him standing there. "Hogan, darling. Say something. Don't tell me you're speechless."

"I think Newkirk is going to have to eat his hat."

It was nice to see Marya confused for once as she said, "What?"

Ignoring the General, he was just a pawn, Hogan focused his attention on the most important person in the room. "Newkirk promised to eat his hat if you were Nimrod."

Marya looked hurt. "Hogan, since when have I ever lied to you?"

Striding into the room with confidence, the man known as Papa Bear said, "Never. But you have never told me the whole truth either. And your tale about Nimrod was another in a long line of half truths." Then, turning his attention to the second most important person in the room, and the most beautiful, he continued, "Hilda's Nimrod. Or more specifically a Nimrod. I imagine you have several. I should have known. No one man could have had access to the amount of information Nimrod had without it being obvious who he was. So you created an organization. Each little Nimrod, playing spy, sending you the bits of information that you send on to London. I bet they all think they are the only one."

Marya grinned before throwing herself at him. "I knew you would figure it out!"

Once he disentangled himself from Marya, Hilda wandered over, leaving the still stuck General staring after her in shock. "The wonderful thing about secretaries, Colonel Hogan, is we are everywhere. Important people tell us everything. We take all the notes, make all the calls. But no one ever suspects us. After all, we are just women."

Hogan grimaced. He couldn't deny the truth in her words. But if Marya was using secretaries as her spies then... "Helga's a Nimrod too."

Marya shrugged. "There was an opening on Goering's staff. I couldn't resist, darling."

If Hogan was going to have any hope of maintaining some control in this relationship, he was going to have to take charge now. So walking over to the General, Hogan said, "Nice of you to drop by. I'm pleased that you decided to accept our famous Stalag 13 hospitality. No worries, our Traveler's Aid Society will get you to London in no time."

While Burkhalter attempted to sputter a reply, Hogan called out, "Kinch, you down there?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm pushing him down."

"Ready," Kinch replied.

"What? I forbid..." Burkhalter began.

Hogan pushed hard and grimaced as he heard a loud thump. Closing up the tunnel entrance, he turned his attention back to the two lovely, dangerous and intelligent ladies. "Now let's free Schultz, and then you are going to tell me just what Hilda discovered that made this whole circus necessary."

Marya's eyes flashed with glee as she turned and led Hogan and Hilda into Klink's bedroom. Meanwhile, Schultz's eyes showed great relief upon seeing them—he'd been laid sideways on Klink's bed. "Okay, don't worry," Hogan said as they helped him. "Everything's fine now."

"B-b-but Hochstetter…"

"Don't worry," Marya said, "Hochstetter is out of commission. Burkhalter had time to make calls before we came back here."

"How do you know?" Schultz asked, shocked.

"You wanna know?" Hogan asked.

The fat sergeant pursed his lips. "On second thought… no." As he prepared to leave, he said, "Wait a minute. If Burkhalter made the calls first, why was Hochstetter allowed to send those masked people to rob us?"

"You have never seen messages cross? Now, out, we have important things to discuss," Marya ordered.

"Don't wake Klink, he's in the VIP quarters. Go to our barracks; if you promise not to ask why certain people aren't there, LeBeau will make you some strudel,' Hogan said to get Schultz out of the way.

"Oh, right now I would pretend to be Nimrod if it means getting away from…" Schultz paused a moment as they walked toward the main entrance. "Wait a minute. Who was he?"

"Go get some strudel, Schultz, LeBeau will tell you a story." Hogan knew they'd come up with something.

As Schultz left, Hogan turned to the ladies, expecting the absolute truth. They began to reveal the information, and Hogan began have an idea for how to get Hilda and Marya out.

* * *

"This is preposterous," Burkhalter complained in the tunnel, tied up and awaiting escort. "You will not get away with this!' He sighed and grumbled. "You have probably gotten away with much more, though," he spoke resignedly.

"Sure; and who's gonna miss you? They probably figure you're on your way to Argentina," Carter said.

"My wife will." Burkhalter seethed inside, but a lot of his anger had been expelled as he exerted energy trying to get unstuck and then trying to fight the prisoners who were holding him. "I wonder who Nimrod was. It had to be someone with access to many secrets." His eyes grew wide, but then he shook his head. "No, it would not have been. It couldn't have been!'

Kinch was curious. "You mean your wife? Or your sister's husband? Maybe he didn't die after all."

"I had thousand to one odds on that, but I got a few people to make that wager," Newkirk said. "Don't worry, we only used good, hard, counterfeit German currency to bet on that. But, tell you what, General, if you want Argentina, I hope Sarge and Tina's okay. You'll just have to look around jolly old England for a sergeant whose wife is named Tina."

"Are you cracking these jokes to try to antagonize me?' Burkhalter asked angrily. "I almost yearn for Klink bragging about his 'no escape' record. Although it would appear he had everything but escapes here," the General fumed.

* * *

A short time later, once Hogan and the others had gotten Schultz to return to his post, Baker came up from the tunnel. "We just got word from the Underground—Olsen went out to see and came back. They'd got a couple of their men on the plane that was taking Burkhalter to Argentina. Except they confirmed the pilot was already one of theirs."

"You'll thank me someday, Hogan Darling," Marya cooed as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Well...I guess it worked out okay. Although there is that problem of why Hochstetter's goons were robbing the place when Burkhalter had called to have him locked up for insanity," Hogan complained.

"I slid a letter onto Colonel Klink's desk—Helga got me an advance copy. He'll know Hitler's a madman," Hilda said.

Hogan was much kinder but still a bit miffed. "You sound as bad as her. How will that help?"

"It's an order by Hitler to shoot all Allied POWs," Hilda said somberly.

Marya gazed upon the shocked Colonel. "Don't worry, Hogan; none of the camp commandants believe him anymore," she said, giving him a reassuring kiss.

"All right, get down there, Olsen and a couple other guys will get you where you have to go."

Hogan was glad for the heads-up, but wondered if a distraction—even one that big—would really help, unless he could convince Klink to surrender. After all, there had been the soaking and so much else, too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Olsen had escorted his fair share of difficult people to England, most of whom didn't want to go there in the first place, but this Russian lady had all of them beat in terms of sheer exasperation. Especially considering he wasn't actually taking her anywhere.

"Ma'am, I'm sure Colonel Hogan's already told you, but the escape routes are closed. All of 'em."

Marya took a drag on her cigarette and pouted. "Even your little submarine boat? Come, I am sure you have some way out left, as clever as you all are."

She attempted to lean up against Olsen and he sidestepped, quickly but politely. "Afraid not. It's impossible to get across the border now. Fighting's too heavy. You know that."

"But what about flying? The air is lovely this time of year. Very little turbulence."

Olsen ran a hand through his hair. He was beginning to see why the Colonel couldn't stand this lady. "Look, Marya, you can't take Burkhalter's airplane out of the country because it just left the country, all right? I was out there. I saw it take off. It's not an option."

Marya smiled. "What makes you think I was talking about that airplane, darling?"

* * *

"You'd think they would have left by now," _Leutnant_ Kirschner observed, chewing on a blade of grass. He and several other members of _Jagdgeschwader 7_ stood in a loose circle around one of the fighter wing's precious jets, watching Hochstetter's men like hawks.

A mechanic, who had been loading ammunition into the plane's cannons, paused and wiped his forehead, squinting across the airfield. "Be a real pity if this gun went off with them standing there."

" _Beruhigen sich, Stabsgefreiter," Major_ Stirn said. He was functioning as de facto commander during Kohlrausch's absence. "We still need those fools alive to defend the Fatherland."

"As if they'll be doing any defending," another pilot seethed. "I wouldn't put it past them to–"

His suppositions were interrupted by the sound of tires on tarmac and a squeal of brakes. The group looked over just in time to see Kohlrausch exit his mud-covered Kübelwagen. He slammed the door and stomped over, water dripping from his uniform.

" _Oberst!_ We'd almost given you up for dead! Or arrested, at the least. Why are you soaking wet, sir?"

"No time for that," Kohlrausch snarled, wringing out his tunic as he spoke. "Why are those blasted brownshirts still polluting my airfield?"

"We confronted them with the _General's_ orders, but they seem hesitant to comply," Stirn said. "Probably still think we're all traitors."

"Make them comply, then! Pepper them with lead if you have to. I want these planes airborne within the hour, we've wasted too much time as it is."

"Telephone for you, sir!"

Kohlrausch gave a growling sigh and started in the direction of the communications hut. "This had better be Himmler, with a personal apology," he muttered, taking the phone. "Kohlrausch here."

His men watched with curiosity as the _Oberst's_ face reddened considerably. "Yes, Madame, of course I remember...no, not a proper introduction at all..."

Kohlrausch looked around, noticed the airmen still standing about, and briskly motioned them away. "Pardon me, you said the _General_ is rather tied up at the moment?...oh, yes, yes, of course...anything to serve the leaders of the Fatherland...we can have a transport plane here in an hour...no, I doubt we could spare the men for a fighter escort...Madame, you must understand the situation, half of our planes are down for maintenance, and the runway...well, for a short flight only, perhaps, but it would have to be very brief, you understand..."

* * *

Marya turned from the telephone in the radio room with what could only be described as a smirk on her face. "It is done! My handsome Colonel Kohlrausch will allow General Burkhalter the use of an airplane, for what the Colonel believes will be merely a short trip."

Hogan sighed; the susceptibility of German officers to Marya's charms never failed to amaze him. "And somehow you plan to get yourself and Burkhalter to England during this short trip."

Marya shook her head. "Not Burkhalter. You would waste the last plane out of Germany on him? Better you keep him in the tunnels. No, Hilda and I will be accompanying our British contact, who will be disguised as General Burkhalter."

"Your British contact?" Things were never what they seemed with Marya, Hogan reminded himself with a sense of resignation.

"But of course! Did you think that I conducted my network of female spies without help from the British? Our British contact relayed information and gave us instructions, although of course we never met him personally. Until recently, when I was able to discover who he is."

"Really." Hogan regarded her with more than a little suspicion. "After all this time, why would you bother to do that?"

"I needed him, Hogan darling. As it turns out, he needed me, too. He must get to London as soon as possible."

Hogan rubbed his face wearily. "So are you trying to tell me that this British contact is Nimrod too?"

"Of course, darling. One might even say that he is _THE_ Nimrod. At least _he_ thinks so."

"And where is this Nimrod?"

"He is here, darling! That is why I had to bring Burkhalter back. Nimrod was hidden in the trunk of his staff car."

Hogan's head was spinning. After all the work he and his men had done to produce a multitude of Nimrods, Marya's latest revelation of yet another—scratch that, not just another, but _THE_ Nimrod—was mind-boggling, and Hogan had just about had enough. He pushed his cap to the back of his head, put his hands on his hips, and glared at the Russian beauty.

"Okay, that's it. If I never hear the name Nimrod again, it will be too soon. So where the heck is he, and why the heck does he need us to get him to England? And why the heck didn't you tell me about him when you first showed up?"

"So many questions! I could not reveal him until I was certain there was a way out of Germany. I am afraid you would have reacted badly if you thought he was going to be your guest for the duration."

"You've stuck us with Burkhalter," Hogan pointed out. "How bad could Nimrod be?"

His rhetorical question was answered by an all-too-familiar voice.

"Hogan, old boy!"

As the dapper British officer known as Colonel Crittendon came into the radio room, Hogan staggered back in disbelief. " _HE'S_ Nimrod?" He turned to Marya and hissed: "You will pay for this!"

"Hogan, darling!" she protested, eyes wide with hurt. "How could you be so cruel?"

"No need to chastise the poor fellow, my dear," said Crittendon, after offering Hogan a salute. "His previous acquaintance with me was not entirely felicitous, and one can hardly blame him for a certain degree of doubt. But Hogan, you must recall all the escapes I've had: dozens and dozens of them!"

"And recaptured every time, as I recall."

"All part of the deep cover, old boy. Did you never wonder what I was up to during my brief periods of freedom prior to recapture? But not to worry, my dear fellow. Marya tells me you still have radio contact with London and can verify my story."

"Yes, I can," Hogan growled. "Don't think I won't do it, either."

"Capital! Now, I agreed to accompany Marya to Stalag 13 to ask for your help, and a dashed uncomfortable ride I had in the boot of General Burkhalter's car, too!" Crittendon's tone abruptly lost its public school affectation and became deadly serious. "But I must get to London to deliver my message in person: the issue is most urgent."

"And just what is so important?" Hogan wanted to know.

"A matter which could adversely affect not only the conduct of the remainder of the war, but postwar relations between the United States and Britain as well. Two army generals, one from each country, are the targets of a plot conceived by Jerry in last-minute desperation."

Hogan frowned. "And who are these generals?"

Crittendon's voice was grim. "Patton and Montgomery."

* * *

It was like the words Patton and Montgomery were the secret code that everyone needed to put the final places of the plan into place. In spite of what Hogan thought of Marya, Crittendon or the multitude of Nimrods dropped into his lap, the Allies couldn't afford to lose two of their best generals with the end of the war in sight. So as soon as darkness descended the Nimrods and Heroes met at the closest airfield.

Kohlrausch looked uncomfortable as Hogan stood before him in his best German officer persona. "Now it is imperative that this plane makes it to Spain in one piece," Hogan ordered. "The General has a top secret meeting that has the potential to finally turn the tide in this war. Heil Hitler!"

The German officer returned the salute and then ordered his men to make things ready. If Kohrausch was thinking about why Burkhalter felt the need to make this trip with his attractive looking secretary and even more attractive lover, he didn't ask. Nor did he comment that Spain was a common stop on the route to Argentina. Some things were better to ignore.

Once the plane was prepared, Hogan held his breath as Crittendon stepped out of the truck with Marya draped all over him in one of her most seductive outfits. Subtlety was a word that simply didn't exist in the Russian's vocabulary. And Crittendon...at that transformation, Hogan could hardly believe his eyes.

Newkirk had done some of the his best work of the war with Crittendon's costume. Now the man wasn't going to convince anyone who knew him that he was Burkhalter, but they were counting on the soldiers to be unable to distinguish one fat general from another, and Crittendon had enough padding in his uniform to make pillows for all of the boys in Barracks 2.

Hilda looked smart and composed as she walked confidently aboard with a very valuable briefcase in hand. Hogan was just glad to know that someone sensible had her hand on the secrets.

Bringing up the rear was Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau as they struggled to carry one very large trunk onto the plane. After all, one couldn't expect a general to flee without his luggage.

Once his men returned minus the luggage, Hogan drove the truck to a safe distance away where they could watch the plane take off in peace. But even though they were about to rid themselves of some of their biggest headaches of the war, not all of his men were happy.

Newkirk sighed as he watched the runway. "I still can't believe we're stuck with Burkhalter for the duration."

LeBeau nodded. "Babysitting Klink is bad enough."

"No kidding," Carter said. "Perhaps he'll be more cheery in time."

Hogan draped his arms around his men's shoulders. "Gentlemen, I'm surprised at your lack of faith."

"You have a plan to get rid of Burkhalter!" Carter declared.

"I knew I could count on you, mon Colonel."

"How do you plan of getting that tub o' lard to agree, sir?" Newkirk asked.

"I didn't ask."

His three men exchanged looks and then all said at once, "He's already gone!"

The plane took off in front of them and Hogan grinned. "He is now. Let's just say, Marya is going to be in for a surprise when she opens that trunk."

* * *

"I'm not eating my hat!"

LeBeau whistled as he stirred a very special sauce. Carter, the current holder of Newkirk's hat, dangled it perilously above the boiling liquid. Kinch cracked his knuckles as he said, "You promised to eat your hat if Marya was Nimrod."

"Hilda was Nimrod! A Nimrod. With Helga. And Crittendon!"

"And Marya was manipulating them all. Which in my book makes her Nimrod." LeBeau held out his hand. "Hat, please."

Newkirk snatched it out of Carter's grasp. "Not happening."

Off in the background, Hogan chuckled to himself as he watched his men. He didn't know what the end of the war would hold. And with so many of the major players now out of the game, things would inevitability change. But one thing was most certainly true: things at Stalag 13 would never be boring. Which was why he couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire. "Let's have a vote. Raise your hand if you think Newkirk should have to eat his hat."

Every hand minus one shot straight up into the air.

Newkirk groaned. It was going to be a long rest of the war.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Klink was uncertain what to do about the letter. Hilda had placed it on his desk before she disappeared, it seemed. Whenever she'd been back last.

He'd eventually called a few other camps. They hadn't received it, but they would certainly not be doing what Hitler ordered if they did. This satisfied Klink.

He noticed a sense of unease on Hogan's face at roll call one morning soon after that. "Hogan, may I see you for a second?" he asked.

"Sure, what is it?" Hogan asked after the others were dismissed.

Klink sighed. "Hogan…I chose to ignore all the strange goings-on just before Burkhalter disappeared, Hochstetter was apparently arrested or something, and…well, you know," he said as he led the American colonel into his office. "My secretaries, it seemed everyone left. I had a Hitler youth come in to do my secretarial work."

"I noticed." And began to educate the kid about the evils of the Nazis and how nice we Allies really are, Hogan thought to himself.

"Colonel Hogan, it appears the Allies will be here soon. And, I wanted you to see this." Klink handed the dispatch that Hilda had shown Hogan to him. "It is an order…I could not bring myself to look upon it. I actually called other camps to make sure they would not carry it out."

Hogan was shocked as he read it. He'd heard from London that Hitler, in his last days, actually had ordered all Allied POWs to be shot, and that nobody was carrying out that order. He didn't know what to say now that he was looking at the actual order, except to mutter, "Thanks."

"Hogan…strange things happened here. Very strange things. I don't know if you were ever involved. But, let me just say, if you were Nimrod, or Papa Bear, or had anything to do with anything strange…well, I admire you. It took a lot of courage for me to make those calls after I saw that letter…whoever Nimrod was, I could never be that bold."

Hogan had enough pity in him to relate, "We all do our part. Theodore Roosevelt once said, 'Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.' You had a little and you could protect some people." Although Hogan knew none of the other commandants would have obeyed that order anyway, he wanted Klink to feel like he'd done something. Plus, it would help with his case. "Me, I was a simple POW. Maybe we helped to stop that duel—but we just happened to be ready and have an idea."

"I am not just talking about that, Hogan. Remember when I asked if you were a spy? I don't know what answer I expected, or what I would have done if you'd said 'yes.' But…like with what that newspaper reporter wrote about." He flailed his arms. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not making much sense."

Schultz entered the office at that moment. " _Herr Kommandant_ , there is an officer who wishes to enter the camp."

"Well, let him in," Klink insisted.

"Really? Even though he is American?"

Klink sighed and told him to surrender, and Schultz left. Hogan breathed a sigh of relief. Now, he wouldn't have to tell—although he imagined some things would get out anyway.

"Well, now I suppose you will never have to tell me." Klink echoed his thoughts. "Perhaps it is like with that question. I don't know if I want to know."

"And maybe when you finally look at all the evils the Nazis did, you'll hope that I was," Hogan said. "And you can be glad that no matter who Papa Bear, Nimrod, or anyone else was, you didn't stop them. And that one little act with that order shows maybe you weren't so bad after all."

"Perhaps not." Finding no more words, Klink said, "Celebrate with your men—wait. I would prefer to go with you. To surrender officially."

"Sure."

Hogan knew that quite a bit would need done yet, but he'd help Klink and Schultz as they adjusted to civilian life. Schultz with his family intact, too, which was a great blessing given the problems some families had.

Klink turned abruptly to him after a few minutes. "Hogan, I just heard one soldier say you had run this camp all along. What did he mean?"

"You really want to know?"

Klink thought about it. "Maybe someday."

Hogan agreed. For now, victory was all that mattered.


End file.
